69 John H. Astington University of Toronto, Canada Will Sommers’ Suit: Illustration of Early Modern Performance The early 1620s print by Francis Delaram of “Will Sommers King Henry’s Jester” shows signs of being influenced by a tradition of stage representation of the figure, beginning in earnest in the early 1590s. The Admiral’s Men and their successors staged at least three plays featuring Sommers, the last and most successful being Samuel Rowley’s When You See Me You Know Me (c. 1604), an historical romance set in the court of King Henry VIII. The article examines the likely influence of scenes and motifs from this play, which probably held the stage for some time, on the composition and appearance of the Delaram picture, considering both within the context of the certifiable biography and the considerable legend and mythology of Sommers himself. The status of the print as an “illustration of the stage” is given critical attention. John H. Astington is Professor of English and Drama at the University of Toronto. He is the author of books and articles on the early English theatre, and has written on pictures and the stage in Shakespeare Survey, Shakespeare Quarterly, Shakespeare Studies, Medieval and Renaissance Drama in England, and The Oxford Middleton. Keywords: Will Sommers; Francis Delaram; stage representation; pictorial representation; stage illustrations. he growth of popular entertainment in London over the fifty years from T roughly 1560 onwards gave new prominence to the cult of the fool, already a well recognised figure in both social life and in literary and graphic culture of the medieval period.1 The rise of the stage fool as a public entertainer, rather than purely a court or household servant, overlapped with and fed a printed literature, that catered to a spectrum of taste running from light amusement to a more searching satire.2 The traditional costume of cap and bells as emblematic markers of widespread moral folly had been enshrined in Sebastian Brant’s Narrenschiff of 1494, anglicised by Alexander Barclay as The Ship of Fools (1509), with copies of the famous woodcuts showing the various manifestations of folly. A version of this edition was reissued in 1570, contributing to the growing Elizabethan fashion for fools, and for books, pamphlets, and pictures about them. Popular Entertainment Studies, Vol. 2, Issue 1, pp. 69‐78. ISSN 1837-9303 © 2011 The Author. Published by the School Of Drama, Fine Art and Music, Faculty of Education & Arts, The University of Newcastle, Australia. 70 Even before the appearance of the renowned Richard Tarlton, who seems to have begun his stage career about 1576, a popular taste for jests and funny stories associated with a witty and irreverent figure showed itself in the anonymous Jests of Skogyn, licensed for publication in 1565‐6, and appearing in print by about 1570. John Scogan, or Scoggin, as his name was popularly rendered, had been a court jester to King Edward IV; nothing much is known about him in the way of reliable fact, but he became a focus for popular jesting tales and legends. He is remembered anachronistically by Justice Shallow in Henry IV, Part Two: in his wild youth Falstaff is supposed to have beaten him “at the court gate” (3.2.26‐28).3 That the court fool, essentially a private entertainer for an elite circle, could become the focus for popular legend and amusement, as well as for political criticism and polemics, is attested to by jests and stories attached to a number of such figures, including King James I’s court fool, Archy Armstrong, and my principal focus here, Will Somer or Sommers, fool to King Henry VIII and his children. Richard Tarlton rose to prominence as a public professional entertainer over the course of quite a short career of a dozen years (1576‐88). From the foundation of the Queen’s Men in 1583 until his death later in 1588 he was a royal servant, and his status no doubt gave rise to the later legend that he was a favourite of the Queen, able to cheer her melancholy moods with his humour, not unlike a court fool, in fact.4 The fool as supporter of the monarch, a therapist dispelling gloom and promoting a generous and balanced mental outlook, and hence the health of the entire realm, was a recurrent trope in literature and drama. In relation to the ruler, the fool in jestbook legend was frequently a truth‐teller and friend of the common folk, an upholder of equity and fair dealing. Tarlton was also a popular subject for pictorial memorialisation, “so beloved that men use his picture for their signs.”5 One such popular print was shown on the stage within a year of Tarlton’s death, praised by the ballad‐seller Honesty, a character in Robert Wilson’s play for the Queen’s Men, Three Lords and Three Ladies of London. What may have been the same woodcut, showing Tarlton performing a jig to the accompaniment of his own pipe and tabor, was used as a title‐page ornament to the popular pamphlet Tarlton’s Jests. That it was perhaps not the first such illustration published as a cheap single sheet, for sale by such itinerant pedlars as Honesty, or Autolycus in The Winter’s Tale, is indicated by the early 18th‐century reference to “the picture of Scoggin or Tarlton on a privy‐house door.”6 The sign of the fool as a Bakhtinian truth‐teller, a reminder of all social classes of their common dependence on the body and its functioning, that “a king may go a progress through the guts of a beggar” (Hamlet, 4.3.30‐31), guaranteed its widespread and common appeal. Thus popular illustrations of fools and jesters might decorate that most democratic of places, the toilet. Well after the Elizabethan phase of popular fool literature and illustration there appeared in the later Jacobean period a picture in the rather more expensive medium of engraving, apparently sold as a single sheet by Thomas Jenner, a principal figure in the rising economy of the illustrated print in London, and then Popular Entertainment Studies, Vol. 2, Issue 1, pp. 69‐78. ISSN 1837- 9303 © 2011 The Author. Published by the School Of Drama, Fine Art and Music, Faculty of Education & Arts, The University of Newcastle, Australia. 71 doing business at the sign of the White Bear in Cornhill. It might have cost a few pence more than an equivalent woodcut print, yet still it was a reasonably accessible artifact, within the financial reach of many people at the time of its production. Dated between 1620 and 1622, it is the signed work of the engraver Francis Delaram, and shows the figure of “Will Sommers Kinge Heneryes Jester,” as the legend across the top announces.7 Sommers is shown at full length, facing the observer with his upper body turned slightly to the left, so that the level, calculating regard of the saturnine face is at a three‐quarters angle. This jester is not at all invitingly merry. In keeping with earlier representations of Sommers, what we see of his head is apparently bald or close‐shaven;8 he wears a flat Tudor cap with a feather cockade tilted rather jauntily towards the left. His main garment is a long, skirted coat with the royal initials on the breast. It has elaborate slashed and puffed sleeves, with trailing pendants, tied with a sash at the waist into which a more traditional fool’s cap appears to be tucked. The body of the gown is closed with decorative clasps, and around his neck Sommers wears a fairly massy three‐strand chain, presumably of gold, a sign, with his master’s initials, of his status and favour. His feet, by contrast, are simply shod in slashed leather pumps: dancing shoes, perhaps. The left hand rests on the hip, elbow extended, in a gesture of confident assertion. The crooked right arm holds out a curved hunting horn. The general effect is of an affected arrogant dignity, whether in mockery or no, echoing the pose and presence of the famous King Henry himself, rather than the deliberate grotesquerie and distortion of the comedian. The curious figure is set on a raised exterior foreground; visible Popular Entertainment Studies, Vol. 2, Issue 1, pp. 69‐78. ISSN 1837-9303 © 2011 The Author. Published by the School Of Drama, Fine Art and Music, Faculty of Education & Arts, The University of Newcastle, Australia. 72 to either side is a townscape background in which children play with hoops, tops, stilts, and a kite, amidst other group games. The games and the architecture in which they are set are reminiscent of Pieter Breughel the Elder’s painting of children at play (c. 1560), as well as of the popular decoration of Netherlands’ stove and fireplace tiles, frequently featuring a series of children’s games.9 One part of the print, then, alludes to a widely known decorative genre of the period. The visual signs of the print are partly elucidated in verses, engraved at the foot in two columns of four lines each. (The copy illustrated, from the British Museum, has a damaged lower right corner. The missing text is supplemented from copies of the print in the collections of the National Gallery, Washington.10) In modernised spelling and punctuation, the lines read: What though thou think me clad in strange attire; Know I am suited to my own desire. And yet the characters described upon me May show that a king bestowed them on me. This horn I have betokens Summers’ game, Which sportive time will bid thee read my name; All with my nature well agreeing, too, As both the name and time and habit do.